Underneath these Firelights
by Observer1304
Summary: PostS4. As a tumultous year ends, an affair between Katie and Effy begins. Throughout the years, their lives change and collapse to be built up again while they slowly realize that they might be holding onto each other for very different reasons by now.


__**AN: This is a Keffy fic I wrote for the Skins BB. It'll be posted fully during the next weeks. Thank you to all the people who made it possible for me to write is. Enjoy!  
>Warnings: Skins stuff, KFF language &amp; non-explicit sex<br>Disclaimer: If it were mine, there'd be a movie  
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_i. solace in your darkness_

She's staring blankly at the table, at the empty bottle of vodka placed in its middle. It's one of the few connections they still have, sitting in the white and empty room in simple silence. She knows that no one has cooked here in quite some time, sees the dust atop pans and pots, vows to clean up at some point, because it's not like the girl across from her will and even if she doesn't live here, someone should. The state of the house is what her mother would deem disgraceful.

"This is fucking sad", she comments. Effy simply smiles back at her (fucking infuriating).

"You don't have to be here, you know. I'm sure there's lovely people everywhere all too glad to celebrate into the New Year with Katie Fitch. There's no need to babysit the psycho."

Her only reply is a silent shrug. So much has changed, and now, at this point, they seem to be the only ones left. It's been a shit year, she decides. Everyone's disappeared by now, of to fuck in Goa or study in Harvard. Cook's gone missing without a sign, they've heard nothing from Freddie even though months have passed since his impromptu birthday party and JJ is Oxford's star pupil now.

Left in Bristol are only the two of them, leaving Katie to deal with Effy's second stay at the psychiatry, visiting faithfully even after Anthea fucked of somewhere, leaving behind the deeds to the house and a basement filled with wine. Katie's no expert on family, but she's pretty sure that's not what a mother's meant to do. Then again, Emily calls fucking Gina Campbell Mum nowadays, so it's not like the comparison to her own mother is brilliant, in any way.

They're stuck here now though, the two of them, in the Stonem's kitchen, waiting for the seconds to pass. It's still almost half an hour left. Normally, she'd be dancing like crazing with some fit bloke at this point, measuring up just how far she'd let him go come midnight. Instead, she's here, where there's neither music nor blokes, just someone's who's her friend now, after everything. She's changed enough to maybe actually consider that important.

"Want some champagne?" Effy offers. "There should be some left. Dad saved some for my college graduation years ago."

"Sure."

She smirks, slightly, and is out of the room seconds later. Katie's used to it by now. Effy Stonem plays by her own rules, coming and going the way she wants.

She ponders the passing year as long as she's alone. She's studying at Bristol University now, which is quite a fucking accomplishment for someone like her, thank you very much, even if it's only part-time and she still spends the rest of her days helping her mother with that stupid wedding planning business. She doesn't have that many options, though, anyway, and now that Emily's gone the guilt-trips have become unbearable.

Bristol without Emily and all the others of the old gang isn't the same any more. Sure, she's made friends at university. She's Katie Fucking Fitch, after all. And with Effy as a competition, being popular in college was actually work, compared to this. But these new, lovely people would be fucking wasted after the bottle of vodka she and Effy have emptied in the last two hours. With everything that's happened, she doesn't feel like she can connect to them, not really. Stupid little snobbish pricks with straight As and great hopes for life. She'd only ever wanted to be a wife and a mother and now that that's gone, she's still looking for something to fill the void. Who knew emptiness could turn into an emotion?

The champagne is placed in front of her as Effy searches for a corkscrew. She produces it along with two glasses. Katie is grateful that she at least let's a bit of water run over them before she pours. She doesn't feel like catching anything tonight. "There's still twenty minutes left, you know", she comments.

"Isn't that lovely?"

"Looking forward to it?"

"Well, maybe I'll actually fucking get to die this year."

Katie slaps her. It's not the first time Effy's said that, not the first time Katie's replied this way. She's never been a particularly calm or gentle person. For a second, she thinks she sees shame in her friend's eyes, but if it was ever there, it's gone only seconds later. "I put too much fucking time into you for you to die on me now."

"Yes, Katie", she rolls her eyes, but Katie books it as a victory. It's been long months. Months of listening to psychiatry counselors and doctors, trying to understand what they say. Months of understanding fucking shit, because she's always been way better at fashion and boys than at this. Enough people had abandoned Effy though, and because she knows what it feels like, Katie doesn't think she could do it too. Still, out of the two of them, Emily had always done these kinds of things, talked to people about complicated things, offered comfort, been the responsible one. Well, she's fucking gone now. So Katie's stayed, talked to those idiotic pricks and cuntish nurses and rambled on so something would fill the silence Effy always seems to create.

She knows that Effy, in her own way, acknowledges what she's done, but she'd do it anyway. She might not be saintly and adorable Emily- still doesn't mean she always has to be a complete cunt. And praise means so much less, these days. Besides, there's been much less talk of deaths, ghosts and shadows throughout November and December, so Katie figures she's at least not doing any harm. There's a red handprint on Effy's cheek now, but Katie knows it'll fade before the night is over. She hasn't hit anyone and actually put strength behind it since fighting with Emily more than a year ago. Perhaps she shouldn't have slapped Effy, but it is who she is. Besides, she's far too exhausted to be silly and apologize.

She seems to be forgiven, in any case. Their eyes meet over the empty bottle and the filled glasses, and the old Effy (in charge, dangerous, psychic) suddenly seems to be back, smirks slightly. "When did you change, Katherine?"

"When will you learn not to call me that, Elizabeth?" she snarls back. So this is her punishment, then. Dangerous questions she'd rather not reply to.

"Never. And that's not an answer."

"None of your fucking business, is it?" She hasn't changed, all that much. Perhaps, the person she once was would not be sitting here, would want and not need to be this drunk and might not really care about her friends, but she doesn't want to consider the many implications these thoughts bring with them. At the moment, she might actually have to though- she really, really fucking hates those eyes piercing through her. It makes her give in. She swallows the first comment she thinks of, something appropriately spiteful about the scar on her temple and moral disgrace. It's unnecessary, and by far not the only reason. Not like Effy would fucking believe her anyway, so what's the point? It's too easy a way out, playing the guilt card. "Want a list?"

"Tonight seems like a good time for one."

"Well, we'll forget about the rock matter. My sister ran off and I know she won't be back, my family's still nearly broke. I haven't had a boyfriend- or a proper shag- in months. Oh, and I'm infertile. Perhaps I also just grew up and stopped being a cunt."

The one good thing about Effy not talking is that at least she's spared the senseless pity at the last comments. The _oh, darling _she received when telling her mother was rather simply fucking unhelpful. Effy just looks at her, then down at her watch and her only reply to the mess Katie's life has turned into (though she'd have no reason to talk, anyway) is "Well, happy fucking New Year."

Their glasses clink, an empty sound in empty lives. She supposes she should appreciate the taste of a fourty-pounds-a-bottle drink, but she can't, not right now. She's not really surprised at the kiss, not the way she should be. It's a fucked-up life now, after all and for a moment, it rather simply feels nice to have someone else's lips on her again. So, she decides on fuck all and deepens the kiss, carefully, slowly, running her tongue over Effy's lips. There's been other girls, of course. When Emily suddenly turned gay, it didn't completely go past Katie. She'd wondered. She'd experimented. It had been alright. This was rather fucking nice, actually.

She doesn't expect Effy to pull away, even less expects the shame in her eyes. They might be friends or something now, but the less forgiving part of her, desperately hurt in her pride by staying number two to the mysterious Miss Stonem, whom everyone wanted, still labels her as a whore, not as someone who pulls away.

"I'm sorry", are not words she's heard too often. Katie holds her in, reaching out with her hands for Effy's waist (fucking tiny), waits for the explanation. She's seen Effy in many states of distress, never quite like this. Her own stare works better than she thought it would. "I ruin things. I ruin people." They understand each other and so Katie comprehends, at least once, what she's trying to say, thinks of the Three (boring, wankshite, idiotic) Musketeers and a split-apart family.

She instinctively knows that words won't serve as a reassurance, not this time, not alone. So she places soft, comforting kisses on Effy's lips as she whispers. "I know you, Effy. I won't fall for you. You can't destroy me." (Because she's broken already.) "I promise", she adds.  
>Vodka is surging through her veins, along with the tablet of MDMA Effy handed her earlier, and it turns into reckless abandon, especially when she's met with a piercing stare before Effy kisses her back, daringly. It doesn't mean anything, she knows, as she whispers "you don't scare me". This is simply something they need, both of them. She's not afraid. Katie Fitch is not a coward, and she hasn't been afraid of Effy since long before her scar began to fade. There's something to be said for this, she thinks, as Effy's hands span her waist, and she stops thinking, allows herself to feel. She won't be ruined.<p>

She feels herself pushed down onto a sofa between kisses that are turning urgent and needy within seconds. Nimble fingers unbutton the first buttons of her blouse before ripping it open. She doesn't care, this once, because she hasn't felt like this in far too long. And as she looks up at Effy on top of her, whipping her own shirt (no bra. slut) over her head, she finally forgets about all the problems she might have to solve tomorrow.

What unravels her completely in the end, has her gasping on the blue sofa is the look of sheer lust in Effy's eyes as she stares down at her, fingers curling inside Katie. She hasn't been wanted in a long time. (And maybe never like this.)


End file.
